


It's a sure thing, Probably

by Mcyashna1



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon Disabled Character, Eventual Romance, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Meet-Cute, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Build, Tags Are Hard, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-03-01 03:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18792490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mcyashna1/pseuds/Mcyashna1
Summary: Bucky is trying to recover, at least that is what he tells anyone who asks. If that means he makes bets on how quickly couples will leave the restaurant who can blame him. But when the date goes from awkward to violent Bucky can't help but step in and help the guy out. If it leads to anything more, well Bucky won't hold his breath.Based off an awkward date story I saw online somewhere. Story in the Notes.





	1. It's a flare up that's all

**Author's Note:**

> Tinder date. Guy keeps ordering for the girl. (Shit like that is weird anyway but when you are legitimately having dinner with a stranger, why the fuck would you think that's ok?)  
> He ordered her drink (liquor) which she corrected to a glass of wine. Then he ordered her some soup, which she stated she didn't want. Then he ordered her meal (shrimp scampi), which she corrected to chicken marsala because she is allergic to shellfish.  
> She was very sweet and I'm assuming was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Until something took a turn and she poured her wine on his head and stormed out.  
> (Probably Reddit, sorry I don't have who posted it?)

Bucky propped the bussing tub on the table, and quickly dumped the three plates and drinks into it. Pulling the rag to wipe the table down out of the waistband of the apron, he ran it haphazardly across the table. Not really caring if it was perfect, the early dinner rush was about to start and Natasha had asked him to swing past her section next. Bucky picked the tub up with his left hand and swore under his breath as his hand gave sharp burst of pain, the brace over his wrist reminded him yet again he couldn’t use his left hand the way he had for his full 24 years. Well minus one year of rehab. He hated having to rely on his right. He shook his head, that wasn’t something to think about at work, especially since it was going to keep getting louder in the restaurant. 

Bucky scanned Natasha’s area as he drew closer, there were a few couples getting settled already. Couples flocked to their restaurant, **The Bridge** , on Friday nights. Natasha was waiting on a mismatched pair, but gave him a look that she wanted to say something. She tapped her pencil against the pad and gave Bucky a casual roll of her eyes. He hid a smile behind his hair and pretended to wipe the table near him until she joined him. 

“Five bucks says they don’t stay for dessert.” Natasha smirked, “The big one looks like he wants to eat the little one alive.” 

Bucky leaned around her to check out the couple. The big one was a stereotypical muscle guy, and Bucky wanted to roll his eyes. He had dark hair cropped close with a light scruff that tried to be sexy, but looked more lazy then anything. He did have an interesting gleam in his eye, it didn’t look friendly. It was more…predatory. The little one, was tiny- he looked like he was drowning in his clothes. His blonde hair was slicked back carefully. Bucky liked the look of him, there was something very tough in the way he was holding his jaw as he tried to carry on the conversation. He was holding himself stiff as they carried on what had to be a first date conversation. 

“Ten says the little one leaves alone and early.” Bucky held his hand out for her to bump it and seal the bet. “Catch any names or we giving them ones?” 

“Didn’t hear any yet, they weren’t ready for drinks. I’ll see if I can get any.” Natasha picked up a few of the things she needed for other tables and made her way around her section. Bucky slipped into the kitchen to empty his tub in the sink for the kid Parker to wash. 

Natasha’s eyes were wide as she came back to drop off the slip for a few of the meals. 

“The big one tried to order for his date.” Natasha let a laugh out. “Tried to order alcohol, the little guy tried to correct it to water. Bucky, he talked over his correction. The guy had to say alcohol messes with whatever meds he’s on to get the guy to shut up.” 

Bucky perked up at that, “Sounds like I’m winning so far.” 

Natasha’s grin sharpened; he still didn’t know how she did that. “Date isn’t over yet. Oh, and I think the little one is Steve.”

Bucky brushed his hair back behind his ears and picked up the tub. The bets he and Natasha did were the only way to get through the long shifts and shitty pay. He made a round on the floor, cleared Darcy’s section and did the bare minimum in Zola’s. The guy was creepy, he always wanted to ask about Bucky’s arm. 

By the time he got back to Natasha’s she was getting ready to take their orders. He slowed down as he cleaned the table by theirs trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.  
Bucky could hear Natasha’s voice clearly and rolled his eyes, she was talking louder than normal for him to hear. 

“Did you guys decide on what to order?” 

Tall, dark, and rude spoke before Steve (Bucky hoped that was his name, it was cute) could open his mouth. “We’ll both have the Pasta Scampi, with the soup of the day.” He handed Natasha the menu without looking at her. 

Bucky could see Natasha’s frown. If he wasn’t careful Natasha would be shifting into an ice queen rather than her friendly retail persona. 

Steve coughed into his hand and shook his head. “Actually, I’m allergic to seafood. I’ll take the chicken marsala and the salad. Does that have nuts?” 

Natasha’s eyes were laughing. Bucky was laughing too under his breath. Tall, dark, and rude had nerve ordering for someone else.

“No, no nuts. What dressing for that salad? We have Italian, ranch?” Natasha went through the list, Bucky stopped listening and tried to keep watching without staring. Steve was smiling at Natasha and answering her questions, getting more glares from his date. Natasha left to put the order in and Bucky hovered to see if he could catch anything else. It wasn’t creepy yet, but he had to admit it was moving into that category. He would only admit it to himself that he thought Steve was fascinating to look at. 

Steve turned back to his date, “So, Brock. You mentioned something about being at busy work. What is it you do?”

Brock, what an **awful** name, smirked. “I work private security at a tech firm. I get to rub shoulders with a famous people every day.” 

Bucky shook his head and huffed a laugh Brock was showing off and Steve did not look impressed. Bucky was distracted by his eavesdropping and didn’t think when he tried to clear the table with his dumb left hand again. The plate slipped from his grip as his fingers spasmed, the plate broke on the table sending food and shards of glass across the table. 

Worse it got Steve’s attention. Brock was still talking but Bucky could see Steve’s concern out of the corner of his eye. Bucky pulled his still twitching hand closer to his chest and worked on picking the larger shards and dump them into his tub. 

Natasha materialized by his side as he was trying to use the rag on the seats to find all the shards.

Her voice was soft but held a tone that he couldn’t argue with, “I’ve got this James, go out back. Take a minute.”

“No, no. I’m fine. I can do this.”

“James, you’re shaking.” Natasha slipped the rag from his hand. Once she said that he could see his hand was shaking bad. His left hand was still sending flares of pain and was tucked against his chest. His right was quivering. 

“Yeah…okay, I might need a break. Thanks Nat.” Bucky refused to look at the table with Steve and Brock as he walked past. It had been a good night, eavesdropping, a cute guy, and he had been winning the bet with Natasha. 

Barton stopped him before he could get through the staff doors. Natasha’s boyfriend shouldn’t even be around, but he liked to take a table in her section and go through a whole pot of coffee, even in the evenings. Barton held out a water bottle without a word. Bucky took it with a nod. 

Bucky slipped out the back door in the kitchen, carefully avoiding Thor and his fiancé Jane. The power couple owned the restaurant and would fuss if they saw he had panicked over dropping a plate. Bucky rested his head against his knees and sat on the half step in the alley. 

He was pathetic. He wasn’t sure why dropping the plate had set him off. He held the bottle between his knees to twist the cap off since his left hand still wasn’t functional. He tipped the bottle to get a drink and the memory hit him. 

_They had brought him into the room that looked more like a medieval torture room than a medical office. Bucky was barely conscious a combination of pain and drugs keeping everything fuzzy and blurry. They were working on his left arm again. The men in lab coats kept saying something in a language Bucky didn’t know. The fear of not knowing what they were saying was starting to wear off. They kept looking at him like something fascinating, something they happened to stumble across, rather than pull out of a lineup of similarly drugged soldiers. One of them said something sharp and one of the lackeys moved closer. They tripped. A beaker fell and shattered, then men working in his arm jerked, his muscles twitched and flared in pain. They were inside his arm. They were in his arm. Bucky tried to scream as the pain built in his arm, his fingers were scrambling for purchase. There was no purchase. There was no scream._

Bucky was in an alley. The water bottle was on the ground slowly emptying as he tried to catch his breath. His right hand found the scars across his left, he could feel them even under the long sleeve of his shirt and the brace. His arm was a lattice of scars. Places they had cut to insert drugs, places they had pulled open to look at the muscles, points they had stitched back together from the IED that had blasted it to pieces in the first place.

Bucky needed to calm down. He knew the routines, he forced himself to take a deep breath. Five things, five things he could see. The water puddle from the bottle, his shoes—old beat-up things but were the mandatory black for the job, some gang’s tag on the alley across from him, a red car passing at the end of the alley, and the dumpster for the restaurant. 

Bucky was starting to be more aware but forced himself to work through all the numbers. That was the only way it would work T’Challa kept reminding him. Bucky started to panic again; he would have to tell T’Challa what had happened in their next session. 

**Four.** Four things he could hear. The traffic, the pigeons on the roof, his own breathing, the shouts from the kitchen behind him. 

Three things he could feel or touch. The cursed brace, his dog tags, the cold half step he was sitting on. 

Bucky was starting to feel more in his own skin, he wasn’t back in that cave. Two things he could smell. The blend of alley odors mixing with the smells from the kitchen. He wrinkled his nose; it wasn’t the most appealing mix. 

The coffee he had downed before things had hit the fan covered his one thing he could taste. 

Bucky sighed and forced his whole body to relax. He still had four hours left on his shift and he couldn’t leave but he still felt like the simplest thing could set him off. His left hand was still shaking but his right had quieted down, well mostly. Bucky took another breath and bent to pick up the water bottle he’d dropped, he took a sip of the last of the water in the bottle before tossing it into the dumpster. 

Natasha gave him a concerned look the next time he came into her section. He grimaced and shook his head. He would finish his shift but he wasn’t going to start sharing with things picking up and getting busier. 

Darcy caught his mood and gave him a few mints when he passed her section. He tried to smile and stuck one in his mouth. She probably had a million questions but kept quiet. Bucky was able to convince the new kid to bus the tables in Zola’s section. He couldn’t imagine talking to the guy not tonight. Not with some of the memories of what happened to his arm so fresh. No matter what Natasha said he did not scare the kid into bussing the tables, it wasn’t _his_ fault people found him intimidating. 

Bucky was crossing into Natasha’s section when Steve stood. His voice was low but furious, his whole body tight with anger. Brock leaned back in his chair attitude cocky and sure as he responded. Steve moved faster than Bucky thought was possible, the glass of water on his side was all over Brock. Steve turned on his heel and started to leave. 

Brock’s voice was loud as he stood and reached out for Steve. “I didn’t mean it like that, doll. Come back.” 

Bucky stepped in between the two before Brock’s hand could connect with Steve’s jacket. His mouth opening before he could think anything through, “I believe that he isn’t interested.”

Bucky sighed slightly as Brock squared up in front of him. Still trying to look intimidating even covered in water. “You are interrupting a private conversation.” 

Bucky put his right hand out lightly holding Brock’s arm as he tried to push past him. “I think he made it quite clear he is not interested. Let him leave and then you can pay and leave.” 

“Let go of me.” Brock looked down at the hand on his arm, then flicked to Bucky’s left hand tucked protectively at his side. “I don’t take orders from any one, let alone a crippled _spaz._ ” 

Bucky sucked in a breath but didn’t know what to say next. 

“Back off Brock. I’m not interested, you picking a fight with someone isn’t going to get me.” Steve’s voice cut through Bucky’s thoughts. “Like he said I made it clear I was not interested.”

Brock took another step forward and Bucky tightened his grip slightly. Brock looked down and Bucky had half a second to register that Brock was moving before he felt the punch connect to his jaw. He let go of Brock and swung hard. It was a mess of hits and making connections before Bucky felt himself being pulled away from Brock by Barton. Thor was in front of Brock pushing him towards the exit. Natasha was holding Steve back by the collar of his shirt and trying to hand him a towel to hold to his nose and lip that were bleeding. 

Bucky stumbled as Barton pulled him to the back corner. His mind couldn’t keep track of where he was. He accepted the ice from someone and set it against his jaw and eye. 

“You can let go of me now.” Steve’s voice was muffled but still angry. 

Natasha laughed and Bucky felt her hand in his hair, soft as she ran her fingers through it. 

“Thor is so going to fire me.” Bucky moaned, he was so fired, he had been lucky to find this job so quickly after getting out of rehab, most places wanted someone with two working hands after all. All because he had been on edge with the flashback. 

“Thor will not fire you.” Jane’s voice cut into Bucky’s spiral, “He likes you too much. In fact, you are going home early.”

Bucky raised his head about to argue when she gave him another sharp look that softened as he watched. “I saw you out back earlier James. You go home, come back tomorrow.”  
Bucky slumped back on the bench and ignored the ache as it pulled on his ribs, his left hand flared again. Had he punched Brock with it? He couldn’t remember.

Steve shuffled behind Jane, obviously uncomfortable about what he had caused. “I’m sorry for Brock. I met him at a bar a few weeks ago, nothing I could say could get him off my back. I finally agreed to do one date. I didn’t realize he was this much of a dick.” 

Bucky waved a hand casually. “’S fine.” 

Jane stepped back and Natasha’s fingers disappeared as Steve came forward. “He shouldn’t have said those things about you.”

Bucky felt himself stiffen; the words hadn’t meant anything to him. It was the threat of violence against someone who looked like a strong breeze could knock them over that had pushed him over the edge. 

“I don’t like bullies. It’s why I was storming out, he said something about…he said a few other things that I couldn’t listen too.” Steve gave Bucky a bloody smile and a solid head nod. “I’m Steve.”

“James, or Bucky if you want. Not a big deal to punch a guy, I think he deserved it.” 

“I’d like to make it up to you though? Maybe dinner?”

Bucky looked at Steve again, surprised at the offer. He wasn’t sure what Steve thought the look meant but his face fell and he started stammering.

“Or I could just leave? I am sorry you got punched, for me. I mean not for me. But because of me? I’ll just.” Steve dropped the slightly bloody rag on the table and took a half a step back. The confidence waning from his shoulders as he seemed to disappear further into his clothes. 

Bucky looked at the rag confused before his rattled brain caught up with what was going on. “Oh, no. Wait. I was just surprised at the offer. I don’t usually get noticed.” He waved the ice in a gesture meant to encompass his full self, from overly long hair and dumb arm, to the two-day scruff and ill fitting clothes. 

Steve stopped and squinted at him. “Why not? You look pretty good to me.”

Steve tried to smile but stopped when the cut on his lip opened again and started bleeding. “Although we both are a mess right now. How about I give you my number? We can set up a time when we both aren’t covered in blood and are thinking a little straighter.”

Bucky nodded and started to shift before realizing his dumb arm wouldn’t be able to grab the phone and he couldn’t put the ice down with the other. “Actually, I’ll give you mine. My hands are a little busy.” 

Steve blushed and stammered; Bucky decided he would love to see that color again on Steve. Bucky recited his number and Steve smiled when he said good-bye. Steve even stopped to thank Natasha and must have tried to pay for the meal but Natasha waved him off. 

Barton was at Bucky’s elbow, jostling to sit next to him but mindful of the new bruises and old scars. “Nat said I can borrow her car to take you home, but if you get blood in it she’s going to make sure no one can find the body.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes at Barton and kicked him under the table, “Then let’s get out of here. Everything hurts, that guy said he was part of a private security somewhere. Solid as a rock.”

Barton laughed and yawned. “You did pretty good, the guy was limping, had at least a black eye, and was breathing hard. Course your little guy helped too.” 

“His name’s Steve.” Bucky smiled. He was going to go out with Steve eventually, maybe the day wasn’t total crap. “I gotta get ten bucks from Nat and we can go.” 

Bucky was careful to not get anything in Nat’s car. And if Bucky held the ice to his face and smiled through the curtain of his hair the whole way home. Well, Barton knew better than to tell anyone.


	2. It's an uphill climb

“It’s been a week, Nat.” Bucky spoke into his hand. He felt a sharp flick against his forehead. “What was that for?” 

“Complaining. You have been whining about seeing your tiny fighter for a week. It is _not_ sexy.” Natasha spoke calmly as she rolled the next set of silverware with practiced ease. Bucky was supposed to help, something about using fine motor skills. He had tried and dropped three sets of silverware before Nat had banned him from touching them. “I didn’t complain this much when I was waiting for Clint to get back to me.”

“That’s cause you showed up at Barton’s apartment after three days and threatened to castrate him if he didn’t ask you out again.” Bucky stared at her incredulous. “He had to prove that his phone had been out of commission for nearly two days before you believed him. You still haven’t told me how you figured out where he lived.” 

Natasha gave him a small smirk, and raised her chin. “I won’t tell, I like you too much to have to kill you.” 

Bucky snorted. “I would give you a challenge. At least I hope I would.” 

Nat laughed, “I wouldn’t give you the chance to. Poison is much more efficient anyway.” 

Bucky gaped at her. Every time he thought he knew his best friend she said something new and surprised him. He shook his head. “I don’t know how Barton deals with you.” 

“It just means you don’t have to.” Natasha smiled before turning serious. “How were your sessions with the therapists this week?” 

Bucky frowned at her before looking away. 

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me what went down. Just, did it go well? Extra practices?” Natasha’s tone was kind but the attitude was still brisk. 

Bucky’s tapped his head against the table. “I had to tell T’Challa something I remembered about you know…” Bucky let the sentence go unfinished. “And about the fight. But I did my panic routine and he was proud of that. Shuri said I have to do some more fine motor practices with her. It should help the spasms. She threatened to send Okoye home with me and make sure I’m actually doing the practices.”

Bucky mock shivered. The siblings T’Challa and Shuri Namiri were therapists at the rehab center he had been taken to after…well after. They were certified in overlapping scopes of practice and had enough practical knowledge between the two that they were the best team to handle a PTSD-riddled disabled vet. Their assistant Okoye was terrifying. It wasn’t just her piercings and close shaved head; he couldn’t tell if she was joking when she spoke sometimes. She reminded him of Natasha on some days. 

Natasha placed a silverware set in front of him. He gave her a weak smile and focused on rolling them neat and carefully. His left hand protesting as he forced it to work through the motions. Barton slumped in the seat next to him. Natasha sent him a glare before he even opened his mouth. But Barton must have balls made of brass because he ignored Nat’s warning. 

“Have you heard from your bae? Ouch! What was that for?” Natasha probably kicked him under the table. Bucky shook his head, trying not to let his disappointment show. 

“He must have changed his mind, and decided I wasn’t worth it. Hey! You kicked _me_ , Nat!” 

“You aren’t allowed to be negative about yourself. You are a **catch**. He probably got caught up and wasn’t able to call you. You don’t know what his job is, maybe it’s very demanding, or he went out of the country.” Natasha finished rolling the last few sets and leaned forward to take his hand. He hadn’t realized he was tracing the shape of his brace under the sleeve. Trying to feel for the scars he had carved into his memory. 

Barton gave him a gentle nudge and nodded along with everything Nat said and Bucky smiled at the two. “Thank you, guys. Really. I...” 

Bucky felt his voice fade out. He wasn’t sure how to put the feelings he had for his best friends into words. He had met Natasha before the army, before high school. She had been the one to clean him up after the accidental come out of the closet beating in high school. Let him crash on her couch when his parents had found out and his dad kicked him out. Sent him packages when all he had to eat or see was sand and bullets. She had been the first one to get to the hospital after he had been pulled out of hell. 

Barton had shown up after that. The hospital had paired them as rehab buddies. Some ironic program of putting together broken people to try and make friends, that had actually worked with the two of them. Barton had massive scars going down his right side and he was always forgetting to put in his hearing aid. Which made sitting on his right side the equivalent of sitting by a wall.

Natasha flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we know what you want to say. We say it back. Everyone gets a bit teary-eyed.” 

Barton barked a laugh and Bucky let himself laugh too. Smiling at Nat, she gave him a soft smile and a nod. 

“Alright we got to get a move on. Thor doesn’t pay us to sit around. He doesn’t pay you at all, don’t know why you show up so regular.” Bucky shoved Barton off the bench. Barton laid on the floor with an exaggerated moan. 

“You wound me.” Barton kept his voice light and sat up quickly, as Thor came over. 

“My friends!” Thor’s voice was always volumes louder than it needed to be. Natasha pulled Barton off the ground and left her arm around his waist. “The doors will be opening soon. Are we ready to give **Bridge** a good night?” 

Bucky kept his sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue. Thor did a similar speech every weekend night. He seemed to think giving this speech meant it would make it a good night. It had ended last Friday with Bucky fighting a customer and leaving early.

Thor didn’t need an answer just gave everyone a pat on the back and went to open the doors for the four o’clock senior dinner rush. They had been closed for an hour since Friday’s they stayed open until one. The night seemed to pass in an unbelievably slow crawl or rush past in a blur. It was nearing nine when Bucky heard Darcy hissing for him to come over. 

“He’s here.” Darcy poked at him and pointed at her section.

“Darcy, who is here? That Ian kid who stares at you?” Bucky straightened trying to find the guy who verged a bit on the creeper side. 

“Ian? No, we made out at a party last week and he has got over his staring thing. He was trying to figure out a way to ask me to do that. The kissing, I mean. But that wasn’t who I was talking about.” Darcy spoke a mile a minute, one hand pulling her phone out to flash Bucky a picture of her and the Ian kid smiling in a selfie. Bucky just waited for her to finish so his mind could catch up to her mouth. 

“Your hottie from last week? He came in a few minutes ago with another date. A tall dark drink of water this time.” Darcy sighed like she would rather be with the tall drink of water. 

Bucky took a second to digest everything she told him. “Don’t go chasing other people if you finally are going out with Ian.” 

The admonishment was out of his mouth before his brain could catch up with his mouth. Darcy gave him a sharp look. “Wait, you said Steve’s here?” 

Darcy laughed. “I’m sticking with Ian for a while. Yeah, Steve showed up. Maria put them in the back corner of my section. I figured you would want to know.” 

Bucky looked over at her section, he couldn’t see Steve from where they were standing. “Thanks, Darcy. I won’t come over? He’s…he’s on a date, I wouldn’t want to interrupt that.” 

Bucky felt his stomach tie in knots. Steve didn’t want to go on a date with him, Steve had brought a date here to rub it in. That was worse than what his own anxiety could have conjured up. 

Bucky swallowed hard to keep his voice from shaking and gave his head a slight shake. “I’m taking my fifteen. I’ll see you after.” Bucky tried not to rush to the back, sure that Darcy was staring at him, but not able to bring himself to care.

Parker the dish washer gave him a wave as he went out the back door. He needed to remember to have an actual conversation with him soon, he seemed like a good kid. 

The step was cold, it was five after nine, which meant the alley was dimly lit from the street. He groaned. He had another three hours. Bucky groaned again and tried to work through the feelings of Steve showing up with a date. He was half tempted to message T’Challa, he had told him about the potential for a date and this unexpected twist was sending him into a spiral of self-doubt. 

His phone was buzzing in his pocket. 

It broke him out of his thoughts. He was cold and he didn’t know what he had been thinking about. It was almost nine forty-five. He had lost forty minutes. Bucky was annoyed with himself for letting so much time past without realizing it. It hadn’t happened in a long time. His phone stopped buzzing and started up again. He dug it out and answered without checking the caller.

“—You better be _dead or dying_ , James.” Natasha’s voice came through clear and sharp, her tone biting. 

Bucky cleared his throat before trying to speak, his voice was quiet, like it had been lost with the time. “I’m out back. I…I lost time? I thought it was just a few minutes. Steve is inside…he brought…he’s with a date.” 

He heard Natasha swear and say something on her end of the line. “Do you need to stay out there longer, do you need someone with you, or do you want to come back in?” 

Choices. Nat was giving him choices. T’Challa had suggested it when he lost time. Someone else could direct him out of a spiral better by giving him choices to focus on. 

“I think.” Bucky paused trying to make the decision. “I want to come in.” 

The door opened as soon as he made the decision. Natasha standing there and slipping her phone in her pocket. She put out a hand for him and helped him to his feet. 

Once he was standing and inside the building, she pulled him into a quick hug, whispering in his ear. “Don’t do that again. I was worried. Clint was ready to call the police.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. Still feeling cold from his thoughts and the cool air outside. 

“He’s an idiot, you don’t need him. After work we’re going out, drinking.” Natasha gripped his arm tight. “Shuri told me how much you can drink with your meds. So, we’ll drink to your limit.” 

Bucky laughed more animated now, no longer trapped in his own mind and remembering he still had great friends. “Don’t think that is the smartest move, but I won’t argue with you. I need to let the new guy know to clear Darcy’s section.” 

Natasha nodded and pulled him through the kitchen. “I know. Start in mine, then hit Zola’s. I’ll tell Luke to get to clear Darcy’s.” 

Bucky bit back a groan. As much as he hated Zola, he had been gone for much longer than he should have, there was no way around that section. Especially if he was skipping Darcy’s. Everyone was always sympathetic but it didn’t mean they enjoyed trying to do their job and his. 

Bucky worked through the tables, mindful of what hand he was using the whole time. If he focused on doing this correctly then he couldn’t focus on the idea of Steve not wanting to see him. He rounded the corner for Zola’s section. Filled the tub and quickly switched it out with Parker. Zola came over as soon as he saw him came back. Bucky waved and quickly tried to telegraph that he was busy. Zola was oblivious to Bucky’s dismissal. 

“Where have you been?” Zola’s voice was breathy and it made Bucky shiver. “Did you have a problem, are you working too hard?” 

Bucky flinched his arm back as Zola touched it. The man was creepy. And the disregard for his personal space sent his mind shrinking back. _Too many hands on his body, looking for a way, any way to mess his mind and arm further. They kept him in restraints, even on his injured arm, it created an extra layer of pain in and on his skin._

“No. Stop. No.” His voice was still lost somewhere in his mind with the straps holding it back. Bucky tried to step away from Zola, but the man followed him. His arm was burning where he gripped him. “I need you to let go of me.”

“I am just checking how you are? You seem pale, may be sick? I am worried.” Zola’s voice came across as concerned, but his body language was anything but.  
Bucky tried to take another step back. T’Challa’s voice filtering in his thoughts, violence wasn’t an appropriate first response. But he had given Zola plenty of warnings to let him go. He couldn’t hit a guy two Friday’s in a row at work though. As much as they might deserve it. 

“I think you need to let go of him.” Steve’s voice cut through Bucky convincing himself not to punch Zola in the face. A few times. He wrenched his hand from Zola and pulled the tub to himself and stormed past Steve. 

Bucky didn’t look to see if Steve followed him. He stopped just in front of the Staff Only door and checked over his shoulder. Steve had followed him. Bucky glanced out trying to find the date. There was a tall black guy with some facial hair flirting with their host, Maria. 

“Thanks for helping with Zola. I don’t want to keep you from your date.” Bucky shrugged and pushed into the kitchen. Trying to catch his breath still. He ran through a shorter version of his panic routine to help ground himself. 

Three things to see, Thor was waving a set of tongs and shouting at Jane. Jane was checking the plates before they went out. Parker was focused on the dishes, moving things through with ease. 

Two things to smell, there was the chicken that Thor was cooking, the bread rolls from the warmer oven, and the clean scent of the disinfectant as someone reset a counter for an allergy. 

One thing he could hear, Thor’s voice was full of laughter as he called something else to Jane in another language. 

Bucky dumped the tub with Parker, apologizing for the pile. Parker shrugged and moved another set through the machines. 

Steve was still outside the Staff Only door when Bucky came out. 

“Why are you still here?” Bucky knew his voice was cold. He couldn’t deal with this tonight. All he wanted to do was finish his shift and leave with Natasha and Barton to try and get drunk. He didn’t need to hear Steve’s paltry excuse about why he brought a date to his work place, instead of picking literally anywhere else. 

“Sam’s not my date.” Steve shook his head. “I got nervous about trying to ask you out, so he agreed to come out with me. As a friend! And I wanted to see you, so I suggested here. But you don’t want to see me. I mean I get it. I try to act relaxed but I’m nervous. You’re kinda hot, but you’ve avoided the section I was in all night. I get it if… if you don’t want to go out with me.” 

Steve finally stopped the flow of words and ran a hand through his hair, messing up the perfect gelled part. 

Bucky stared at Steve. He was shifting his weight from one side to the other. His coat was two sizes too big; it was endearing. 

“You still want to ask me out?” Bucky looked at Sam who was still chatting with Maria. “You didn’t change your mind?”

Steve looked up sharply at that. “Of course, I still want to ask you out. Why would you…?” 

“It’s been a week you didn’t call or text and I thought you showed up with a date.” Bucky pointed out. “It’s kinda an obvious refusal?”

Steve opened and shut his mouth, gave a shake of his head, and straightened up. “I’m sorry. Let me start over? I am sorry I didn’t call you. I got busy at work and didn’t think how that might affect you. I would like to go out with you next week. When are you free?”

Bucky swallowed hard Steve still wanted him. He sounded sincere and not like he was saying something to appease him. “I don’t work Tuesday night or Wednesday.”  
He didn’t mention that those were his days off so that he could attend therapy and have the subsequent break down of memories and physical aches. 

“Great. Then I will send you a text of when and where?” Steve smiled at him and Bucky found himself smiling back. 

“That would be good.” Bucky felt a little more at ease as they talked, the knots loosening in his stomach. Steve put out a hand and Bucky shook it. 

“I should let you get back to work. It really was good to see you tonight Bucky.” Steve smiled and turned to leave with a little half wave. 

Bucky smiled and watched him go. There was a confidence in his shoulders, they were slight but strong. And if Bucky checked out Steve’s butt as he walked, well, no one else needed to know. 

There was a text from an unknown number less than a half hour later. With a time and restaurant name for Wednesday. Natasha insisted they go out for drinks after work anyway. Bucky felt giddy the whole night, and he knew it wasn't from the drinks. He couldn't get Steve's smile out of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, Got the second chapter up. Please leave Kudos, subscribe, Comment what characters from MCU you want to show up. I promise the main Avengers will all show up at one point or another. Can't guarantee what roles since I don't even know yet. I'd love date ideas for these two, if it works out I'd love to include it!


	3. It certainly feels endless

Bucky pulled two more shirts out of his meager closet, looking over them both. The green one was stained and the other was a solid blue. How did he only own blue or green shirts? 

He tossed the stained one at the bottom of the closet, missing his laundry basket, and the blue one on top of Barton. Barton grumbled and shoved the shirt off his face. Natasha had work but Barton had shown up to help Bucky avoid stressing about the date. He had promptly taken over Bucky’s bed and alternated between dozing and texting Nat about Bucky’s panic. 

“Nat says blue brings out your eyes. Go with that.” Barton waved one of the three blue shirts on top of the bed. 

Bucky growled and snapped. “I don’t have anything nice.” 

Steve had picked the restaurant. **Brooklyn Boys** was a little fancier than **The Bridge,** but that was out of Bucky’s normal price range, so cue panic. 

Barton waved another shirt, the blue button-down Bucky had tried on first and then changed four times in rapid succession. 

“You can see my brace with that one.” Bucky dropped on the bed. 

Barton laughed and Bucky tried to glare. “Man, you can see your brace in every one; unless you wear a glove, it won’t be covered.”

Bucky considered that. A glove wouldn’t look too bad. Barton shoved him.

“No. No glove. I may be a fashion disaster, but even I know that’s the wrong thing. C’mon, try this one on again. I’ll send a pic to Nat. She’ll probably say you look hot and to do something with your hair. Then you’ll grumble and do it. I’ll hang out a little longer to help kill time.” Barton handed him the blue button down and the one pair of slacks he owned.

“You have been spending too much time with Nat if you are going to lay everything out like a tactical plan.” Bucky laughed and followed Barton’s plan.  


Everything went like Barton outlined, but with another panic attack when Bucky realized he didn’t know what to expect during the date. He hadn’t been on a date since before he joined up, and even dates then had been scarce. 

Barton got him to calm down and gave him yet another pep talk, along with three texts from Nat on his phone about how well he was going to do. 

Bucky was trying not to fidget in front of the mirror. Barton had left, but had managed to get a promise for Bucky to share the details. Bucky couldn’t calm down. His hair was neat and combed, beard wasn’t too scruffy, his collar was crooked on one side. He reached up to fix it and his eyes went to the brace. 

He knew Steve had already seen it and it hadn’t seemed to bother him then, but this was a date. Best foot forward, first impressions, all that jazz. 

Before he could change his mind, Bucky pulled it off, leaving it on the bathroom counter. He grabbed his keys and coat and left the house. 

He was fifteen minutes early, which meant he couldn’t go in yet; that would look too desperate. 

That left him sitting on the bus bench, knee bouncing anxiously. His hand felt odd without the brace; he wore it every day since he had gotten it eight months ago. It was a protection against all the stares he _knew_ were directed at the scars. 

Bucky debated leaving and standing Steve up four times before it was five minutes to the hour and he decided that was punctual rather than desperate nerves. 

Bucky managed to get through the interactions with the host without too much stuttering. She smiled and took him to a seat; he was the first to arrive. 

Bucky hated waiting. He felt himself start to slouch in the seat. His dumb hand pulled closer to his chest, like that was a good defense against the pain he was starting to feel deep in his gut. 

Steve was ten minutes late. 

Bucky’s mind started a long list of reasons why Steve had decided to not show up. Most of them were Bucky’s own self-doubt surfacing, a mean little voice that was _never_ right, but always the loudest. 

Bucky wanted to crawl in a hole and never come out. 

It was getting close to a half-hour late and the wait staff were starting to give him pitying looks. He shouldn’t receive those looks, he hated those looks. He was supposed to be the one to give those looks, not get them. 

Bucky was studying the texture of the table cloth, counting lines in the pattern, when Steve showed up. He was out of breath, clothes and hair rumpled, and the start of a black eye and bruise blooming across his cheekbones. The marks from the fight with Brock were just starting to fade and Steve had already added new ones.

“Thank goodness you’re still here. I wasn’t sure. You didn’t answer any of my messages.” Steve stopped to catch his breath and dropped in his seat. 

“What happened to you?” Bucky moved to reach out and touch the bruise on Steve’s face, pulling back at the last second. He pulled his phone out, he had been too wrapped up thinking why Steve didn’t show and hadn’t bothered to look at his phone. He had a missed phone call, and several texts, each one more urgent than the last but saying that Steve was on his way and please forgive him. 

“I was almost here,” Steve sighed. “A guy was catcalling a few girls. I stepped in and he took that as a challenge. I didn’t realize he had a few friends until the police showed up. I had to give a statement. I’m just lucky it was Sam who showed up.” 

Bucky started at Sam’s name. He had been staring at Steve, cataloguing his looks. The firm jaw and expressive way he seemed to talk with his hands. Hands that were bruised from the latest fight he was in.

“Sam?” Bucky had to clear his throat a few times before his voice would work.

“Yeah, He’s on the force. That’s how we met actually. He pulled me out of a scrap, two on one.” Steve continued to tell the story of how he had met Sam by stopping some mugger from attacking a little old lady. They were interrupted by their waitress who gave Steve what could either be a look of appreciation or disgust for his bruises. Bucky wasn’t too good at facial expressions. 

Steve smiled at her and ordered easily. Bucky wasn’t as confident but got through it. Steve picked up his story. 

“Anyway. He pulls me off this guy—he was at least two feet taller than me, and probably another hundred pounds. Sam finally got me off of them. I gave as good as I got, but still came out worse for it. Sam thankfully believed my story and arrested the two I was fighting. He patched me up and happened to be the officer the next time it happened. He joked about being my guardian angel in blue.” Steve laughed. “It certainly is an odd friendship.” 

Bucky laughed too. It certainly was a funny image of a tiny fighter and someone pulling him out of scrapes with an exasperated laugh. “Sounds like a good friend.” 

“Don’t know what I could do without him.” Steve gave a rueful shake of his head. “But that is enough about me! It’s our date. How was your day?” 

Bucky tried to give a casual shrug. “Errands, and an appointment or two. I’m a pretty boring person, I’m afraid.”

Bucky wasn’t going to share that T’Challa had given him tips on managing first date nerves or Shuri asking for a play by play recap when he goes to therapy next week. Or how the anxiety and physical therapy had settled into a bone deep ache in his chest and arm. 

“I don’t know about that. I think you are more interesting than you know.” Steve smiled and Bucky smiled back. He was fairly sure Steve was flirting. Pretty sure. 

Bucky felt he needed to share a best friend story because Steve had. “I met Natasha at a gymnastics class. She spoke Russian and barely any English at that point. Her family had just immigrated. My father spoke enough at home I could handle the basics with Nat. By the end of the class she pronounced me fluent.” Bucky laughed and shook his head. “Not that I could hold a conversation with any one besides her.” 

“She sounds like a good friend too.” Steve smiled again.

They spent the rest of the meal getting to know each other. Steve was an only child; his parents lived a few hours away. 

Bucky changed the subject before Steve could ask about his own family, Nat and Barton were enough for him. “Tell me more about you. You know where I work, what do you do?”

Steve’s eyes seemed to light up, and Bucky realized his eyes were blue. Once he noticed, how had he not seen it before? “I run the marketing department for Stark Innovations, it’s one of the branches of Stark Industries. I got my degree in graphic design, so I help with a lot of the major web designs and ads you see on tv.”

“Sounds like you’re a pretty important man. Get to meet many famous people?” 

Steve snorted. “Tony pops in like every other day just to harass me.” 

“Tony? Tony Stark?” 

“We met in college,” Steve said with an eye roll. “He convinced me to work for him, and I’m still not sure it was a good idea.” 

Bucky laughed, “Is he as annoying as he appears on TV?” 

“Worse. One time during college, I woke up with two poodles and a stray cat in the room. Tony had found them on his way home from a bar, he was wasted and thought they needed saving. The poodles had tags and I had to return them since Tony was too hungover to walk. It was so embarrassing to walk up to the house and be like ‘my drunk roommate kidnapped your dogs in an effort to save them, sorry’. He did end up adopting the cat.” 

Bucky barked a laugh. “Has he gotten better?” 

“Have you seen the news about him? I swear he gets worse every month!” Steve shook his head and the conversation transitioned smoothly from one topic to the next. 

They were both fans of fantasy and sci-fi movies and books, they even liked some of the same old school black and white movies. Bucky liked to work on mechanical things and Steve liked to do art.

The date went well. Bucky managed not to make himself look like a complete idiot while carrying the conversation. He remembered to smile when his face started to settle into what Nat called his Murder Face.

Steve refused to let him pay at the end. Silently Bucky was relieved; he had been trying to recount what money he had in his bank account when Steve had offered and wouldn’t let him pay. 

“This was fun.” Steve said as they walked out of **Brooklyn Boys**. Steve glanced up at Bucky and Bucky knew Steve was flirting then, Nat had a similar look when they were in high school. “I’d love to go out with you again.”

“I would too, like to go out with you. Maybe a night in? Something like dinner and an old school movie?” Bucky stumbled over his words a bit, but maybe Steve didn’t mind as much because he was smiling back. 

“That would be nice.” Steve gestured over his shoulder to the public parking space, “I’m parked over there.” 

“The bus for me.” Bucky tipped his head in the direction of the stop. “It should be here in the next few minutes.” 

Steve was shaking his head before Bucky could finish his sentence. “I’ll give you a lift.” 

“I don’t want to go out of your way.” Bucky stammered. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. He didn’t live in the best area of town; it was good for someone who was living on a pension and tips from bussing tables. But there was no way it compared to a house for someone who worked for Stark Industries. 

“It won’t be out of my way.” Steve set his jaw and Bucky knew that there would be no arguing with him about it.

“Alright I’ll let you drive me.” Bucky shook his head. He had a feeling he would be giving in to Steve Rogers often. 

_Bucky did his best not to flinch as they pushed him down the hall. The latest thing they had done to his arm made jostling it in any way painful. Walking with two armed guards wasn’t a way to help with that._

_The guard shoved his left shoulder and Bucky hissed and yelped. He wasn’t sure what the plan was for him. The lab coats seemed satisfied with what it was they had done to his arm. He had been passed off to the guards. The hallway was longer than he remembered the last time he walked down it. The stone seemed sharper, colder somehow. Bucky was roughly pulled into a room and passed through a few guards before being left against a wall. The room quickly filled up, men with guns and a few lab coats._

_Bucky turned his arm against the wall, wanting to protect it from being bumped in any way. There was a shout by the cave door and a man was shoved into the room. The other soldier was pushed against the opposite wall. Bucky was sure he looked as rough as the other man. The other man’s shirt was dirty and torn but mostly intact, it was his right pant leg that was cut off. His leg was a mess of bandages and red irritated skin—very similar to what Bucky’s arm looked like. He was managing to put as little weight on it as possible but still looked strained even being upright. His face was dirty and lined with creases and tracks, a beard to rival Bucky’s own, he looked in pain—but more than that he looked scared. Bucky tried to look less panicked. When he looked closer, he realized it was just a kid across from him. Probably not much younger than Bucky, but still a kid._

_The guard nearest Bucky pulled him forward, talking in whatever language it was that they did. He shoved a knife into Bucky’s good hand and gestured to the young soldier in front of him. The kid was being dragged forward, his right leg was uselessly trailing and not holding him up, they gave him a knife as well. Bucky knew then he had been moved out of Hell and into whatever was worse than Hell. They wanted him to fight this kid._

_“No….no…no…No.” Bucky wasn’t sure if he was making the noise or the poor kid in front of him was. This couldn’t be good for either one of them. Bucky shook his head and dropped the knife. There was a shout from one of the men near him, and Bucky’s arm was on fire._

_His right hand gripped his left arm without thinking, his arm was quivering without conscious thought. It was jerking, the muscles screaming as if they were being electrocuted. Bucky started pulling on the skin, trying to find what was causing the pain. The fingers of his left hand were twitching, trying to get away._

_It stopped._

_Bucky was kneeling on the floor. He wasn’t sure when he had dropped. The kid was also on the floor. He looked even smaller now, drowning in his clothes. He was holding his chest; his right leg was out at an odd angle. It wasn’t a natural angle._

_The guard nearest Bucky handed him the knife again. Bucky forced himself to get closer to the kid. He wouldn’t kill him, but if they were both going to be in pain if he refused again. It would be better. Better to obey. Better to listen. Better than pain._

_Bucky was looming over the kid on the floor. He looked so small, his beard was gone now, his face was still just as dirty and lined with tear tracks. Bucky looked at the knife again._

_It was a standard army knife, any soldier carried one on their person. It was thick handled and cold steel. Bucky had carried three or four, it had been one of his weapons of choice for when he needed to be up close and personal with a target._

_He looked back at the soldier below him. The kid was saying his name. “Bucky, Please. Make it quick, they won’t stop. They won’t leave me alone. Please, Bucky.” **Steve’s voice was shaking as he heaved a breath.**_

_**Steve.** It was Steve under him. Bucky dropped the knife again and scrambled back, forgetting his left arm was wounded and didn’t hold his weight. Bucky collapsed on the stone floor. The cave shifted around him, the soldiers and lab coats laughing as they faded away. Steve was moving further away. He was no longer in the soldier’s outfit, but rather in the smart slacks and pale button down he had worn on their first date. His mouth was bleeding and his hair was plastered to his head with dried blood._

_“Bucky, why didn’t you stop?” Steve coughed out, his hand holding his own chest. Bucky tried to move to Steve but the ground was holding him down, his arm was too weak to pull him closer._

****

_Bucky screamed in rage, in fear. Steve thought Bucky had hurt him? He wouldn’t do that._

****

Bucky’s scream tapered off as he woke up, he was in his room. Alone. Bucky stumbled into the bathroom and ran the water as cold as he could. He splashed it on his face and ran it over his dumb arm. He could still feel the fire from the dream seeping through his arm. He had probably laid on his arm and it had fallen asleep. Sometimes his nerves couldn’t tell the difference between being asleep and being under the stress the lab coats had put it under. At least that’s what Shuri always told him. It didn’t stop the intense feeling of being back in that cave from creeping in. 

****

Bucky was still shaking; he rubbed a hand across his face. T’Challa’s grounding methods were running through his head. 

****

Five things to see--he could see stubble, not the long beard in the dream. His green towels hanging behind him. The hair products that Nat bought as a joke but he used. His neat line of pill bottles on the counter. The brace he took off before the date, still sitting on the counter. 

****

Four things he could hear. The clock in the living room. The drip of water from the faucet, he still needed to fix that. The heat was kicking on. His own breathing, it was slower. 

****

Three things to feel. Water dripping down his hair and onto his skin. The counter under his hand. The rug on the floor. 

****

Two things he could smell. The lemon disinfectant he used on the counter. The smell of Nat’s potpourri she insisted on adding to _his_ bathroom. 

****

He could still taste the toothpaste from brushing his teeth, even if it was hard with the fear that had over taken him. 

****

He was safe. He was home. Steve was safe. Steve was home. Bucky slumped against the bathroom door. He was a mess. He had gone on one date, forgot to put his brace back on, and had a nightmare where he almost killed his date. 

****

“PTSD sucks.” He told the empty room. The adrenaline was still running through his system. Bucky knew it would be a few hours before he would be able to get back to sleep. 

****

He had enjoyed the date, that was the problem. For a few short hours he felt whole? Not a cripple, not a spaz, not a broken soldier. Just a guy on a date. It had been nice. He had managed to make Steve laugh, more than that Steve had gotten him to laugh. Nat and Barton could attest to how hard that could be at times. 

****

Bucky slumped on the bathroom floor, debating whether or not it would be worth going to bed again, or staying up and reliving the dream. It was hours later before his mind stopped racing and analyzing every part of the dream. He texted Nat, but she didn’t respond which was expected at 4 in the morning. 

****

He put the brace back on it helped to address some of the nightmares, but it couldn’t keep them all at bay. It was a restless sleep. His mind had too many things to choose from. The dark is filled with nightmares. 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, Sorry it took me so long to get this published. I have no valid reason as to why. It's just the type of person I am.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've published in YEARS. I have never written a romance like this. I'm not sure how anything is going to go or when I'll publish next so good luck everyone.


End file.
